Chapter Thirty-four
Alessia
I sat cross-legged on the couch, scraping the last swirls of ice cream from the bottom of the can.
It was old, but still sweet enough to count as comfort.
My phone lay on the coffee table, charging at a crawl, as if it had something against me.
I kept watching, waiting for a bar to light up so I could call my parents or Carina and pretend that things were still normal.
Dmitri hadn’t stopped talking on the phone since we got here. One call bled into the next, his voice shifting between languages I couldn’t place and English too low for me to catch.
His voice came from behind me just as I reached for the phone. “You’re boring.” He stood in the doorway, staring at my phone. “Follow me.”
I blinked and looked over my shoulder. “Excuse me?”
“Come with me.”
I hesitated. “We’re leaving again?”
He walked out without answering, and I hurried after him.
Outside, Dmitri crouched beside a pile of rocks, stacking them like a kid building a toy fortress.
His movements were quick. When he finished, he stepped back and scanned the yard until his eyes found mine.
I nearly stepped back when he approached.
Dmitri always felt both safe and dangerous at the same time. He took the can from my hand, walked it to the pile, and set it on top. He pulled a gun from his waistband, and this time, I took a step back.
“That’s your target,” he said, handing me the gun.
My mouth went dry. I stared at the gun, then at him.
“I don’t know how to use it.” I could still remember its heaviness, how it shook me as the sound cracked the air, and how Marco’s body hit the ground.
Dmitri tilted his head. “There’s a first time for everything. Now come on.”
I stood still. “Why are we doing this?”
“Because I’ve got a war to run, not a babysitting job. You need to learn this.”
I sighed and stepped forward, taking the gun from his hand. “I’m sure I will never learn this.”
He moved behind me, close enough that his breath brushed my ear. His hands slid over mine to guide the grip, but the nearness unsettled me.
I stepped away. “I can hold it myself.”
He gave a slight nod and stepped back.
The gun felt heavier than I remembered. Sweat pooled in my palms as I lifted it. I closed one eye, held my breath, bit my lip, and pulled the trigger.
No sound came.
Dmitri scoffed. “Yeah. You really know what you’re doing. Cock the damn gun first.”
He moved behind me again, his hands brushing mine to show me. “How is anyone supposed to remember that when they’re about to die?”
He chuckled. “That’s the point. Now shoot.”
I swallowed and tried to focus. Closing one eye, I fired. The shot cracked through the air, sharp enough to send birds screaming from the trees. I flinched so hard the gun nearly slipped from my hands. I didn’t even come close to the target.
Dmitri said, “Again. And stop thinking so much.”
I raised the gun again and fired. The bullet chipped the stone just under the can. The sun was dipping low, casting everything in a blur of orange. I lowered the gun and looked at him. “Maybe we should try this when the sun isn’t blinding me.”
He didn’t even blink. “Again.”
My shoulders slumped as I turned back. I raised the gun again, but before I could fire, a roar cut through the silence.
Rodion. My grip tightened around the weapon. Maybe his arrival was my way out. I fired once more before the bike reached us. The bullet landed closer to the can than I expected. My chest jumped, not from fear, but a twisted pride.
“Wait,” Dmitri said, glancing at his buzzing phone in his hand. He answered as Rodion’s bike tore into view, tires screeching to a stop. Dust coiled around him as he stepped off.
I smiled. Seeing him felt like coming up for air after being underwater too long. But the moment was shattered when he raised a gun and aimed it at me.
Time stalled. My breath hitched. Rodion’s jaw clenched, his eyes dark with rage aimed at me. Dmitri snatched the gun from my hands and stepped behind me, his arm clamping around my neck.
The hold wasn’t of restraint, but control—a warning. My eyes stayed locked on Rodion as he came closer. His stare never wavered. The old fear buried inside me twisted, wrapping around my ribs.
Dmitri’s chuckle brushed my ear, low and wrong.
He pinned the gun under my chin. My body froze, recognizing that breathless stillness before chaos.
If anyone had told me this morning, my smile wouldn’t last, I would’ve nodded.
That’s the cost of believing there’s light in this life. Darkness always waits to snuff it out.
“Looks like you found out,” Dmitri said.
Rodion stepped forward. “Let her go.” His voice scraped. He looked at me like I was the last piece of something he couldn’t afford to lose.
Dmitri’s arm tightened, not enough to knock me out but enough to crush the air from my throat. I gasped. Rodion stopped cold.
“Let’s test it,” Dmitri murmured. “Let’s see what she’s really worth to you.”
Rodion took another step, his fingers locking harder around the gun. “Let her go.”
“One more step,” Dmitri said, “and you watch her die.”
This wasn’t just some brotherly feud; it was something older, something rotting beneath the surface. Rodion’s face wasn’t just angry. Betrayal broke it open.
“Luigi.” The name cracked through the air. My knees buckled as my mind scrambled to catch up. Dmitri was working for Luigi as well? “Is it true?”
Rodion had torn out the parts of himself that used to love.
Dmitri scoffed. “So you figured it out. Now what?”
Rodion’s eyes sharpened, his grip choking the trigger. “Did you kill them?” Dmitri didn’t flinch. My spine locked. “Did you fucking kill them?”
Dmitri exhaled, bored. “Them? You’ll have to be specific—”
“Don’t fuck with me!” Rodion’s shout cracked through the trees. The birds were gone. The silence afterward felt loaded, the forest itself held its breath as well. “Did you kill them?”
“I’m not answering that,” Dmitri said flatly. “I’m done wasting time. Drop the gun.”
Rodion moved, and a shot cracked through the air. I flinched, bracing for the pain, but nothing came. Only the ringing in my ears and the sound of the world holding still.
“One more step,” Dmitri said, “and I’ll put her down. I’m Luigi, so you should know what I can do.”
Those words didn’t belong in daylight. They crawled out of nightmares. My heart stuttered.
Dmitri said he was—no. No, it couldn’t be.
Rodion looked at me. Maybe he saw the fear as the truth unraveled behind my eyes. He lowered his arm, dropped the gun, and kicked it toward Dmitri without a word.
Dmitri let out a short, mean laugh. “I thought your kidney was your weakness. Turns out she is.”
He kicked the gun behind him, then shoved me so hard I stumbled. My knees buckled, but Rodion caught me before I hit the ground. My hands clung to his shirt, and for a moment, I held on like it was the only solid thing left.
“Don’t look for me,” Dmitri said. “I’ll find you when my next job is done.”
He emptied Rodion’s gun, letting the bullets scatter on the ground. His eyes looked straight at me.
“Sorry, darling,” he said, and winked. “Mafia shit.”
Rodion had left the bike running. Dmitri swung on and roared away without a glance back. I stepped out of Rodion’s arms, watching the dust curl behind him as the silence wrapped around everything.
His jaw locked so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. His chest rose and fell, he couldn’t contain what was breaking inside him.
I shook my head. “Is Dmitri…”
“Go inside.”
I hesitated. “What happened…”
“Just get the fuck,” he stopped himself. He shut his eyes and exhaled through his nose. When he looked at me again, his eyes were softer. “Please. I need a moment.”
Our eyes held for one long second. “Okay.”
The silence clung to me as I stepped inside. I didn’t look back. He needed the distance and maybe I did too.
The walls pressed in on me with silence. Minutes blurred together, but sleep refused to come. I paced, sat, and peeked through the door, but nothing helped.
Rodion had walked inside earlier, so I knew he was somewhere inside the house. But it was so quiet. If Dmitri truly was Luigi, then the madness in Rodion’s eyes had a name.
Goosebumps pricked my skin. It wasn’t just the name of Luigi. It was the rot that came with it. If Dmitri had killed their mother… God, no one walked away from that kind of truth without something breaking.
Rodion trusted him. Every time he left me with Dmitri, that was an unspoken trust. What the hell was he feeling now?
What if this cracked something deeper, like his sickness? I couldn’t sit in that room and wait for the explosion.
A faint flicker of light bled from down the hallway. My toes hit the cold tile as I followed the soft clinking of glass that reached my ears.
Rodion sat at the bar counter, shoulders sagging, one hand nursing a glass, the other limp beside two empty bottles. His fingers dragged through his hair.
He sat alone in his storm. I slowed as I reached him, but he didn’t look up. I pulled the stool beside him. When he finally turned, his gaze caught mine.
“You should be in bed,” he said.
His voice wasn’t cruel, just distant.
“Pretend I’m not here,” I whispered, waiting for him to snap. But he didn’t. So I stayed. “If you want to talk, I’m still here.”
His jaw ticked, eyes dropping to his glass. He emptied it and refilled it. The silence between us wasn’t empty. It was full of everything unspoken and shattered.
The glass touched his lips again. But he didn’t rush it. He let the liquid sit in his mouth, as if it held some kind of answer.
“Rodion…”
The name slipped out before I could stop it. I had pulled him from a place he wasn’t ready to leave.
“He’s Luigi,” he muttered. The words didn’t just sound painful, they bruised. “He watched me bury their ashes. And made me believe I failed them.” A dry laugh scraped out of his throat, jagged and not quite human. “He’s fucking Luigi.”
Filling the glass again, he swallowed the drink as if it couldn’t burn him anymore.
The betrayal wasn’t just in his words; it bled into his eyes. I reached out and placed my hand lightly over his. It may be stupid and reckless, but it felt right. He didn’t move. He stared at my hand like it didn’t belong. Was he deciding whether to break it or hold it?
After a moment, he looked at me. The weight in his gaze made my breath catch. “I bled for them,” he whispered. “And still, they saw a fucking curse.”
A sharp ache bloomed in my chest, grief slicing from the inside out.
He scoffed. “I don’t regret killing Renat. But Dmitri?” My breath hitched. He killed Renat? Rodion dropped his head. “I taught him how to lead. How to handle business. How to fucking survive.”
His hand twitched under mine.
“I protected him.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “And he looked me in the eye and used you against me.”
A harsh laugh followed, sharp enough to wound.
“I wanted to kill him. Fuck, I still do,” He paused. “But I couldn’t. If I pulled that trigger, I could have lost you, too.”
My heart ached. It wasn’t what he said, but how he said it. He wasn’t just mourning a brother; he was mourning loyalty. All the nights he stood on fire for people who never stepped forward for him.
He stared into the glass as I slipped off the stool and stepped closer, resting my other hand on his stiff shoulder. He didn’t push me away, and that was enough.
Silence stretched between us, humming with what hadn’t been said. He took a sip, his gaze never leaving the amber liquid inside. When it was empty, he set it down gently, fingers lingering on the rim before pulling back. Still, he didn’t look at me.
If it were Carina, we’d be in a tangled embrace, crying ugly and loud until we emptied it all. But this man didn’t even flinch. His stillness built walls. And I didn’t know how to break through without shattering both of us.
His eyes drifted to my hand on his arm. For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t move. But his other hand came over mine, warm and rough. His voice was low, almost distracted.
“You’re cold.”
“I’m okay,” I murmured.
“You can go to bed.” His eyes found mine. “I’m used to things getting ugly.”
My chest tightened. He didn’t say it with bitterness or regret. The pain sat embedded in him like he had stopped expecting anything better.
“I can give you a hug,” I said, unsure if it was the right thing to do but needing to offer something. “That’s all I know.”
His gaze didn’t waver, and his jaw clenched. “I don’t let people see the damage.” There was pain buried deep beneath all that armor. I stayed still. His hand tightened around mine, not painfully, but enough to send a message. “Don’t look at me like that, Alessia. I’m not like you. Go to bed.”
His grip said what his words didn’t. He didn’t want to be alone. He just didn’t know how to ask. He turned his body to me slowly, as if he was handling something fragile. Our gaze didn’t break. I stepped closer, fitting between his legs.
We breathed the same air, our hearts stuttering in some fractured rhythm. His hand moved and rested at the base of my spine. It wasn’t lust or control. It was a need, naked and trembling beneath the surface.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.
“This?”
“Let someone see how deep the damage runs.”
His grip tightened. I stayed still and let him take what he needed.
“You don’t have to figure it out,” I said softly. “Let me stay. That’s enough.”
He was unraveling, but fighting it. He wanted to maintain control, but barely managed to do so. I felt it in the way his hands clutched my shirt, in the way his breath staggered too fast, then too slow. A war raged in him, one he tried not to show, but couldn’t hide from me.
When he spoke, his voice was rough and low. “Then stay.”
“I will.” I kissed him slowly and deeply.
He didn’t kiss back, but he didn’t pull away either. When I pulled back, his eyes stayed locked on mine. They were not hungry or possessive. He studied me, seeing this version of me that didn’t run or fear.
“What else?” he asked.
“Hm?” I blinked, but he didn’t repeat himself.
He waited, but I didn’t know what to do, only that my body moved on instinct. I leaned in and wrapped my arms around his shoulders in a hug. He didn’t hug back, but when I tried to pull back, hands clamped around my waist, holding me like letting go would break something he couldn’t fix.